


when you’re ready, if you’re interested

by writingonpostcards



Series: Tumblr Ficlets - Check, Please! [12]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Coming Out, M/M, the lax bros being lax bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12673578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: zimbits au wherein a run in with the lax bros leads to a run in with jackJack takes Eric’s hand and squeezes it gently, pulling his focus back. “Shitty’s right, you should come over sometime. He’s a good person to talk to if you need.” Jack drops his head down closer to Eric’s. “And when you’re ready, if you’re interested, let me know.”





	when you’re ready, if you’re interested

Eric’s walking down the street, latte in one hand and phone in the other, only a very little bit lost on his spontaneous scenic detour to the library. He’s halfway through composing a tweet when several air-horns blast in his direction at once.

He swears, jumps about a mile out of his skin, and drops both his coffee and his phone.

The coffee, sadly, goes up before it comes down, and manages to splash all over his front before spilling across his shoes too. He quickly retrieves his phone from the pavement before it’s similarly attacked by the travelling coffee, and checks it over for damage. He sighs out when he sees it’s only a little scratched on the side of the case, and presses a palm to his chest to try and calm the furious beating of his heart.

He looks over to the house across the way, out of which several, men—actually, _boys_ , Eric’s going to call them after that stunt—are laughing at him, and high-fiving each other. Eric flushes and screws his lips together, telling himself not to cry in front of them, not to give them the satisfaction.

“Hey! Dickfaces!”

Eric looks behind him to see a moustached man flipping the bird to the boys in the house across the street.

“Fuck off to your basement of inadequacy and wine coolers, you absolute shitfuckers.”

The boys don’t take his advice, but rather, blast their air-horns again which causes Eric to hunch up his shoulders.

“Hey, brah, you alright?” The man walks up to Eric and looks him over. “Shit, dude. They got you good.”

Eric sighs out, trying to keep his composure. “It’s alright. Thanks for telling them off.”

“Fucking LAX bros. I live for telling them off. Come on inside and I’ll help you clean up.”

The man starts for the house Eric’s stopped in front of. Eric watches him go in the front door and then moves his eyes over the… well, it’s passing as a house, but only just.

Eric wouldn’t ordinarily follow strange men with moustaches into their homes, but there’s something about this guy that strikes him as harmless. It was nice of him to defend Eric against the house full of boys. Eric isn’t used to people rushing to help in situations like this. Just another way Samwell is better and superior to his high school. Also, the man had bare feet, and a t-shirt proudly claiming him a feminist, so how bad can he be?

Besides all of those factors, Eric’s got cooling coffee down his front and wet socks, and that’s a good enough motivator for him to follow.

“So, I’m Shitty,” the man says after Eric’s inside and busy looking around at what seems to be a pretty standard frat house. “Welcome to the Haus, home of some of Samwell Men’s Hockey team. What’s your name?”

“It’s Eric. Eric Bittle.” There’s a bag of condoms sticky taped to the wall in the living room Shitty walks him through. Eric gives it a wide berth.

“Cool stuff,” Shitty says, kicking a few beer cans aside as he brings Eric upstairs, keeping up a running commentary which touches on several topics including himself, feminism, the hockey team’s beef with the lacrosse team, and something about astronomy that goes over Eric’s head. It ends with Shitty asking whether Eric wants to wash his clothes there and wait for them, or just borrow something and be on his way.

“Our washing machine is only about seventy-two percent healthy, but it’ll get the job done. Dryer’s great though.”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Eric says, still trying to wrap his head around all the information Shitty has just given him.

“I’ll make the decision for you then. We’ll get your stuff washed and dried here, and I can make you a replacement coffee for the one you’re wearing. Sound alright?”

Eric nods.

“Swawesome. This is my room,” he throws open the door to a bedroom, not as messy as Eric’s seen, but with enough debris on the floor his mama would demand it cleaned. “Bathroom’s through there, I’ll just grab you something to wear in the meantime. Might be a little big.”

“That’s alright.” Eric’s too grateful right now to care that any of Shitty’s shirts are going to dwarf him.

He steps into the bathroom, noticing a second door which he assumes leads to another bedroom. He peels off his stained t-shirt and bundles it up on the counter before looking around for a washcloth to wet and clean off the coffee from his skin. He has to settle for toilet paper, but it’s probably better anyway.

Shitty knocks on the door when Eric’s almost done.

Eric stills. “Um, yes?”

“I found a shirt I think will actually fit. You want it?”

“Could you leave it outside please?” As grateful as Eric is, he doesn’t want Shitty to see him shirtless. He may be growing into his skin more at Samwell, but he’s still miles under that level of comfort.

“No problem, brah. I’ll be making coffee in the kitchen when you’re done.”

“Thank you.”

Eric waits until he hears Shitty’s footsteps creaking on the stairs, then he opens the door and grabs the offered shirt. He thinks it’s actually a crop top, but it fits well enough, coming to rest just over the hem of his pants. He lifts his arms up and the top exposes a good two inches of his skin. He sighs and tugs it back down again. He’s just going to have to remember not to raise his arms. That’s fine.

He sits down on the closed toilet lid to take off his shoes and socks when the second door to the bathroom is opened unexpectedly and someone walks in.

They both freeze and stare at each other.

“Oh.” The other man says, eyes running over Eric. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eric says quickly. “I’m the one who should be apologising. It’s your bathroom.”

Eric stands up, shoes half unlaced, and immediately trips over them. The other man grabs him, arms wrapping tight around his torso.

They both freeze again.

“Lord, I am _so_ sorry,” Eric straightens up and toes his shoes off so he doesn’t trip on them again. The other man steps back and Eric bends down to pick the shoes up.

“You’re fine,” the man says kindly, smiling at Eric.

Feeling his heart fluttering, Eric smiles quickly at him in return, and then grabs his shirt from the counter and leaves before embarrassment can set in too obviously.

He finds Shitty in the kitchen, humming something unidentifiable and grabbing mugs from a cupboard that also seems to hold board games, alcohol, and some plates.

“Oh hey! It fits. Looks good on you.” Shitty winks at Eric and it somehow doesn’t read as flirty, or make him uncomfortable. Personal growth, Eric supposes.

“So, where do I put my things?” Eric asks, thinking the sooner his stuff is washed, the sooner he can escape the Haus and Shitty’s attractive housemate.

“Oh, basement. I’ll do it for you, the stairs are not to be used by a non-occupant. Plus, I keep the dead bodies down there, so.”

Eric laughs at what he hopes is a joke and hands over his top and socks to Shitty.

Alone in the kitchen, Eric itches to organise the mess of the cupboard that he was witness to. Instead, he breathes deeply, pushes the atrocity from his mind, and opens the fridge to get out milk for his coffee.

He gasps. The fridge is like his worst nightmare. Nothing at all where it should be. Beer in the vegetable crisper, and sausages in the cheese shelves, and dear lord, many uncovered bowls of unidentifiable content.

Eric gets to work, unloading everything onto the kitchen table. It’ll be his way of showing thanks to Shitty. He’ll just make it all… better.

He’s totally unstacked everything and has refilled one shelf when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He whirls around, packet of pre-grated cheddar in hand, and remembers to tug down his borrowed shirt, only to see the man who had walked in on him in the bathroom earlier. He’s tall, and broad shouldered, and has hair Eric can imagine running his fingers through. He also looks either confused or angry, and Eric can’t tell which.

“Hi,” he says, for lack of a better option. “Again.”

“What are you doing?” The man asks, looking between Eric and the mess on the table.

“Organising your fridge,” Eric answers in what he hopes is a placating tone.

The man looks at him for a moment before he says, “okay”, and steps into the kitchen, going for the coffee that Shitty—who’s still absent, possibly doing something with the dead bodies downstairs—has just made.

“Do you want a cup?” He asks Eric.

“Yes please.”

Eric watches him for a second before going back to his task. A cup of coffee is placed on the bench near him.

“About earlier,” the man says, staring down into his own coffee. “I apologise for walking in on you.”

“It’s really alright,” Eric says, grabbing the last item from the table and slotting it in place in the refrigerator. “I’m the one who was intruding in your space.”

The man shakes his head. “I should have knocked, but Shitty was down here and I didn’t realise he had a friend over.”

“We’re not friends,” Eric clarifies, picking up his own coffee and moving to sit at the table, not wanting to go anywhere else in the house where he may not be welcome.

The man frowns over at him. “You’re not?”

Eric shakes his head and takes a sip. The man looks down at his chest, and Eric’s heart flips at the attention.

“You’re wearing his shirt.”

Eric looks down at the crop top, self-consciously pulling it down again.

“He lent it to me because… well it’s a long story.”

To Eric’s surprise, the man walks over to join him at the table, sitting across from him.

“I’ve got time,” he says.

Eric leans back in his chair, unsure where the interest is coming from.

“Alright. Well, I suppose it’s not that long, I just didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

“If Shitty’s involved, it’s a good story,” the man states, then tilts his head a little and adds with a smile, “also, you have a lovely voice.”

“ _I’ve_ got a lovely voice?” Eric asks in disbelief, not quite sure where that comment is coming from either, nor what it means.

“Yeah,” the man says, nodding.

“Well,” Eric feels himself blushing and tries not to think too hard about the idea that this attractive individual is maybe flirting with him. He clears his throat. “Well, I don’t even know him and I find myself agreeing with you, Mr…”

“Of course, sorry,” The man smiles at him. “I’m Jack.”

“I’m Eric.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jack replies.

“You too.” Eric watches Jack for a moment, forgetting that he’s meant to be telling a story and not getting distracted by realising Jack has lovely eyes.

Shitty chooses that moment to come back into the kitchen.

“Jack, you beaut!” He comes over to the table and throws his arms around Jack, pressing a kiss to his temple. Jack pushes him away with a laugh, and Shitty pulls a chair out to twist around and straddle. “I see you’ve met my new pal, Eric.”

Jack looks sideways to Eric, eyes narrowed accusingly. “You told me you weren’t friends.”

Shitty presses both hands to his chest and makes a wounded noise. “Eric. How could you hurt me this way?”

“We just met!” Eric says in confusion to Jack and Shitty.

Shitty holds it for a moment before laughing, and Jack joins in.

“Just kidding, brah. I know. But you seem pretty neat, and now you’ve got a vendetta against the LAX bros, and enemy of my enemy and all that.”

“What did they do this time?” Jack asks, suddenly serious.

“Air-horns again,” Shitty rolls his eyes. “Eric spilled his coffee on his shirt so I offered to clean it for him.”

Jack looks to Eric with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry about that,” he says sincerely. “They all stopped maturing at fourteen.”

Eric can’t help but laugh, feeling at ease in the company of Jack and Shitty, who are obviously great friends.

Eventually though, he has to leave. His clothes are done drying and he doesn’t really have an excuse to just stay around, as much as he thinks Shitty is really interesting, and as much as he’s becoming more interested in Jack with every anecdote and small smile thrown his way. Eric even thinks maybe—even though he’s trying _not_ to think about it—that maybe Jack is interested in him. It’s a strangely pleasant feeling, but comes with complications that Eric isn’t sure he’s ready for yet.

Eric takes his clean clothes back up to the bathroom and changes into them. He leaves the crop-top folded on Shitty’s bed and makes his way downstairs, thanking Shitty again for his help.

“Eric, man, if you want to come over and fix up more of our cupboards, feel free.” Eric laughs. “Okay, I see you don’t think I’m serious. Rude,” Shitty continues. “But seriously, you’re a cool guy. You should come hang. The team would love you.”

“Oh, um,” Eric replies, flustered.

“He’s right,” Jack adds, causing Eric to get even more tongue-tied.

“Alright. I’ll… see you both around, I guess.”

He waves goodbye to Shitty and Jack, and makes his way outside and to the porch when someone calls his name. 

Jack comes out to join him, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Did I leave something?” Eric asks.

“No, no, it’s just,” Jack looks away.

“I wanted to ask,” Jack tries again, before he sighs and pulls his hands out of his pockets.

Jack says all in one breath, “I asked Shitty to spill another drink on you, which he said was ridiculous and that I should be sensible and just tell you I want you to stay longer.”

Eric blinks. “Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more,” he says without flash.

“Really?” Eric thought Jack maybe found him attractive, not that he wanted _that_.

“Yes.”

“But…”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Jack starts.

“No, Jack, it’s not that, it’s-

“But my uncle always says ‘you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take’, so I-

“I’m not really out yet, is all, and I-

Jack stops and Eric bites his lip at his own confession.

“You’re not out?” Jack asks softly.

Eric shakes his head.

“But… your shirt?”

“It was Shitty’s,” Eric reminds Jack.

“Oh, _merde_.” Jack presses a hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry for assuming.” He holds Eric’s gaze earnestly, and Eric feels himself shaking a little inside.

“It’s alright, Jack, I mean,” Eric breathes in, feels nervous, but does it anyway. “You’re right. I’m… gay.”

Jack nods, accepting.

Eric feel himself blushing with the realisation that he just came out. To someone who likes him, no less. He can’t help but smile, and he turns away from Jack to try and hide it.

“I’m glad you felt comfortable telling me,” Jack says eventually.

Eric looks back to him, and sees possibility.

“Jack, I do like you,” Eric says honestly.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s alright, Eric. I can tell it’s new for you. I’m not trying to rush you.”

“Thank you,” Eric whispers, looking down at his shoes. He’ll need to clean them when he gets back to his dorm.

Jack takes Eric’s hand and squeezes it gently, pulling his focus back.  

“Shitty’s right, you should come over sometime. He’s a good person to talk to if you need.” Jack drops his head down closer to Eric’s. “And when you’re ready, if you’re interested, let me know.”

He kisses Eric’s cheek then drops his hand and walks back inside, pausing in the doorway to turn and give Eric one last look.

Eric smiles to himself as he makes his way back to the street, pressing hands to his cheeks to feel just how impossibly wide his smile is. This time when the air-horns blast, he barely even hears them over his own joy.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to [tumblr](http://17piesinseptember.tumblr.com/post/157170706771/zimbits-au-wherein-a-run-in-with-the-lax-bros)


End file.
